


I Can't Even See If This Is Really Me

by Amyrat151



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s09e09 Holy Terror, Gen, M/M, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amyrat151/pseuds/Amyrat151
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas met up in order to find the angel possessing Sam and stop him. Their quest is made all the harder because of the tension between them mounts as their feelings become harder and harder to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cause where else can I turn?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title of this chapter and fic did come from lyrics from Once More With Feeling. Cookies for those who get the Buffy references, there will be more. This is fic is basically my version of what happens after Holy Terror. There will probably be more gay sex in this fic then we'll see on the show, however. Tragedy that, truly. Be kind, I've never posted a chapter fic before so give me feedback if you'd like. It will also likely motivate me to keep going. Many thanks to the person who bated this, know as perlukafari on tumblr.

Castiel walked along a desolate road in Wyoming. It was cold outside, he supposed. He didn’t feel the cold like he used to only a few hours ago. He wasn’t hungry, or tired, and he didn’t sweat when he ran from the phone booth back to the hotel room where he cleaned himself with his newly acquired grace and took all of his possessions, save for his cellphone and wallet, to the homeless shelter. His feet didn’t hurt in the shoes he bought with his earning from the Gas ‘n Sip. He remembered leaving the store with the box tucked under his arm, feeling a strange sense of pride. He told himself if he could save up for, and buy shoes on his own, maybe he could manage a quiet mortal life and that would be enough for him. However, he could feel a blister rubbing against the side of his foot that the new shoes were responsible for. It was annoying and painful, like many aspects of mortal life, but he took solace in the fact that at least he had shoes to put on his feet, unlike a few people he met at the homeless encampment.

He didn't feel pain anymore, or the cold, but instead an odd sort of emptiness at its loss. Or maybe he just felt empty. Castiel for some reason thought of Anna in that moment and couldn’t help but smile. He had privately mourned her departure from heaven after he received the news of her betrayal. At the time it was beyond him why any angel would tear out their own grace to join the legion of such deeply flawed creatures. Looking back on it now, he couldn't believe how naive and foolish he'd been. He would never forget the brightness, the satisfaction, the confusion that came with being human. The joy that came with having a need met. Castiel might be able to remove the stolen grace, get the pleasure and pain back. He could get on a bus to go back to Idaho. Back to Nora and her daughter who he babysat every Friday night so her overworked mother could have some time to herself, back to his dingy motel room that he secretly loved because it was _his_ place. Dean was right when he said that he was finally finding some peace.

_Dean,_ Cas thought with a sigh, or maybe even said out loud. Castiel could not and would not regret what he did in that abandoned factory if it meant helping Dean. Cas felt a twinge of an unidentifiable feeling at the thought of the freckled hunter and hoped that Dean had used the information he gave him to help Sam. Maybe Castiel could still experience the emotions he felt as a mortal, when it came to Dean, anyway. Castiel admitted to himself that he was oddly happy that Dean hadn't kicked him out of the bunker because he thought he was useless without his powers or that Cas would be more trouble than it was worth to keep around. Dean did it to keep Sam safe. _Of course_ , Cas thought _, it’s why he does almost everything_. _Why didn’t I even consider that at the time?_  Cas knew the answer but it was a truth he’d rather not admit to. When it came to Dean, logic and reasonable thinking seemed to take a back seat to Castiel’s feelings. Feelings which spoke to his deep desire to keep Dean from suffering, to help him in whatever way he could. Feelings which made him want to be near Dean and feelings which caused him nothing but despair when he realized he’d let Dean down in some way. And then suddenly, as if the universe was poised to illustrate yet again the level of devotion that the wayward angel has for the man he raised from hell, Cas heard a voice, a desperate plea of his name.

It was a voice he’d know anywhere, Dean was praying to him. The prayer was not clear like it used to be, it sounded muffled and cracked, like coming from a badly tuned radio. But the message still came through loud and clear: Dean was in pain or trouble, possibly both, and needed his friend. Castiel grabbed the cellphone out of his pocket and dialed Dean’s number. Cas didn’t hear any ringing so he looked at the cheap, pay-as-you-go phone to discover he had very weak service. He cursed the stupid piece of technology and ran into the field near the road, waving the phone in the air, desperately trying to get a signal. After a lot of running and jumping that probably looked extremely foolish, Castiel finally got two bars on his phone. He hoped that would be enough and dialed Dean’s number again.

The phone was ringing! Cas couldn’t help but smile, thanking the humans who built cellphone towers. The ringing stopped and there was the telltale click that the line had been picked up. Cas could feel the smile slip from his face and his heart drop when he didn’t hear Dean’s voice. “Dean? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Dean sounded terrible, his voice was raspy and he sounded exhausted. “I guess you heard me.” Dean laughed, he sounded a little hysterical and all the happy feeling Castiel had from successfully speaking to his friend again was replaced with pure worry.

“Yes, Dean. I heard you. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I need you here, Cas. I know you said we should keep away from each other for a while with the angels on your ass, but I need you to come.” Dean’s tone of voice made Castiel ache inside, it was awful. Dean sounded lost, desperate, even scared. A more vindictive part of Cas might be tempted to say no because of what Dean put him through when he told him to leave the bunker but Castiel knew that he would die a thousand times over before he denied Dean what he needed.

“Of course, Dean. Are you at the bunker?”

“Yeah,” Dean croaked. “Where are you?”

“I’m still in Wyoming.” Castiel was really cursing his lack of wings at that moment.

“Okay, okay” Dean mummed to himself. “Can you get to Denver? I’ll meet you half-way and take you back home.”

“Yes, I will go there. It might take me a while, but I will go there.” Castiel expanded his mind to find Denver, Colorado and started walking in the city’s direction. He would find a bus station eventually. It might not be nearly as quick and easy as using his wings, but he would get where he was going.

“Okay, I’ll text you where I’m staying when I find a motel.” Dean’s voice sounded more steady, as if having a something to do, even as simple as driving to motel to meet-up with Cas, made his situation a little more manageable.

“I’ll see you soon, Dean.” Castiel promised before he hung up the phone. It wasn’t until a minute later that he realized he still didn’t know why Dean needed to see him so badly.

 

It was a two hour walk, a three hour hitch-hike ride, and a twenty minute city bus ride from the place where Cas had called Dean to the motel room where he was staying. He was lucky; he didn’t run into any other angels. However, as he walked up to room number 314 he had a feeling that whatever luck he thought he had was about to run out. Castiel sighed, knocked on the door, and prepared himself for the confusing mixture of pain and happiness that came with being in Dean’s company.

“It’s open,” came a voice from inside. Dean knew Cas was coming, he left a short voice mail, stating that he was in Denver not too long ago. Cas opened the door and saw Dean sitting at the small table inside, drinking whiskey from the bottle. From the looks of the other empty bottles around the hunter, Dean probably started drinking the moment he got there and had not stopped. Cas couldn’t help but notice the lack of Sam’s presence. He wanted to ask where the younger Winchester was but he had this overwhelming feeling that he shouldn’t mention it. So instead he said, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean turned his eyes on him, glassy from drink, rose from the wooden chair and wrapped his arms around Castiel. If he still needed to breath, he’d guess that oxygen would have been an issue in that moment. “I’m glad you’re here,” Dean managed, voice muffled since he had his month pressed on Cas’s shoulder. The angel awkwardly raised his hands and crossed them on Dean’s back, patting him a bit. This seemed to bring Dean back to himself, because he stiffed and stepped away from Cas, looked into his eyes, and said, “Kevin is dead.”

Cas didn’t know what to say or do. “I’m sorry,” slipped out because that seems to be what people said to each other when someone lost a loved one. “What happened?”

Dean grabbed the bottle from the table, considered it for a moment, and decided to put it back down. “It was Sam, or the angel inside of Sam.”

Again, Castiel was at a loss for words. But what could he say to make anything better? Castiel thought about Kevin Tran. People were prone to yell out “it’s not fair” when someone dies, and in this case it seemed wholly appropriate. Kevin was barely more than a child, a young man who had hopes for his future and a chance at achieving them before he was a prophet. He was smart, and kind, and Sam and Dean loved him. When Castiel had been fighting in the angel civil war a few years ago, one of his lieutenants had said, “There are always casualties in war.” Cas imagined if he said that to Dean just now he’d get punched in the face, and Dean would be right to do it. Kevin was many things; a “casualty” would never be one of them.

Dean grabbed the bottle again and sat back down in that rickety chair. He took a swing for the bottle then held it out for Cas. “Want some?” He took the bottle and sat down opposite from Dean. As Castiel drank, he felt overwhelming anger towards that nameless angel for doing what he did to the Winchesters. For using Sam’s body to kill one of his friends, for taking the life of an innocent, for using Dean’s love for Sam to manipulate him. His hand clenched around the bottle. He would find and kill this angel if it was the last thing he ever did. Dean, noticing the rage radiating from his friend, said “Give me back the bottle before you break it.” Cas stopped gripping the bottle but did not pass it back to Dean. How much had he had? Enough that he would have a hell of a hanger-over tomorrow, that much was clear. Castiel decided it was worth the argument from a drunk and surly Dean that would no doubt come from him saying, “I think you should stop drinking for now, Dean.”

Dean only rolled his eyes, heaved himself out of his chair, walked over to the bed, and pulled a beer out of a brown paper bag that was on the night stand. “Why? You’ve got your mojo back. You can just heal me.” He twisted off the cap and threw it in the direction of the bathroom. It made a clicking noise on the titled floor. “One of the things you’re good at, just like how I’m good at getting the people I care about killed,” Dean said as he took the drink of his beer.

“Dean,” Cas said with a plea in his voice, hoping against hope that this would be enough to stop the self-deprecating tirade that was brewing beneath the surface.

“I figure I gotta be cursed or something. That’s the only explanation.”

“Dean, you’re not cursed. You can’t be since, I do not think that such curse exists.”

Dean snorts. “C’mon, Cas. You’re going to try and Scully me? Let’s look at the facts, there’s Kevin, my dad, Sammy, Ellen, Jo,” Dean paused and looked at Cas, “even you.”

Cas stood up from his chair and moved towards Dean, hating to hear him in this pain. “The last time I died, it was only my fault. I was foolish and prideful and I should have listened to you.”

Dean clearly wasn’t appeased by his friend’s words because he said, “And the two times before that? You wouldn't have exploded either time if you hadn't been trying to help me.” “But that was my choice, Dean!” Castiel practically yelled. “ _I_ chose to help you and Sam and I will always choose that. You’re the one who taught me how important it was to think for myself, so don’t you dare try to trivialize my free will by taking the blame for everything that’s happened. You were not the one who killed Kevin. An angel did that and we will find him. We will find him and, as you like to say, ‘gank that son of bitch.’” Cas took a breath, lowered his voice and added, “And we’ll find a way to do so without hurting Sam.”

Dean had a shocked, bewildered expression on his face that Cas didn’t have much time to examine, because Dean closed the distance between them, put his hands on Castiel’s face, and kissed him. He took a moment to be surprised since he knew that Dean had only ever shown romantic interest in women, wondering just how drunk Dean was if he would grab onto a person he’d only ever know as a man and kiss him desperately. But Dean traced his thumb across Cas’s cheekbone and sighed happily. Castiel took that to mean Dean did in fact know who he had pressed his lips to.

Castiel was now able to identify that feeling he gave no name to, the one he'd experienced on that lonely road in Wyoming. It was longing, a harsh emotion that was no longer occupying space in his heart after Dean slid one of his hands into Castiel’s hair. Logic was once again trumped by feelings. Cas couldn’t believe the surge of happiness that washed over him when Dean glided his lips across Cas’s and bit lightly into his bottom one. Nothing in his mortal existence had felt like this, because only now was his greatest need being met. Cas put his arms around Dean’s middle, forgoing the awkward patting from minutes ago, letting his hands find their way below the small of his back to play with the hem of his shirt. With Dean’s body now flush against his, Castiel decided to be bold and lick along the seam of Dean’s month, nearly groaning at reality of being able to taste the hunter’s lips. Dean opened his mouth to the welcome intrusion and moaned with what sounded like relief when Cas pushed his tongue into Dean’s month. Instead of encouraging the angel further, he felt himself stop. _This is wrong,_  he thought. Dean was drunk and needy and was probably only kissing Castiel because he was there. Dean pulled back, taking his lips away from Cas’s. He rested his forehead on the other man’s, eyes still closed, placed a kiss on Cas’s neck, and whispered, “Why’d you stop?”

Cas shivered at the small touch to his neck and the whispered words. It would be easy to kiss Dean again, he was offering himself up for Castiel to hold, touch, and taste. A part of Castiel, a part of him he had spent much of his time ignoring, couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to keep kissing Dean. He wanted to run his lips over every inch of skin Dean possessed. He would hold this man, lay him down, and tell him with his lips, hands, and words, if he could find them, that Dean was beautiful and that Castiel couldn’t regret a single sacrifice because it meant being near him. Castiel, having put this wonderful body back together himself, would use his knowledge to make Dean shiver, writhe, and beg. He remembered a spot on the back of Dean’s left knee that was unusually sensitive. They would be wrapped around each other, hardly knowing where one ended and the other began, mapping out the other’s body with their lips and hands. They would find the height of their pleasure within moments of each other. Castiel would allow Dean to rest for as long as he needed before crawling across the bed to cover Dean’s body with his own and proceed to devour him again.

It would be nothing like it was with April but scary in its own way. Not scary because of inexperience but frightening because it would be raw and real, new and old at the same time, because Cas loved Dean more than he ever loved anything else in the eons of his existence. And if he and Dean made love in this unremarkable motel room there would be no denying that fact. There would be none of the ugly deception that had too often plagued their unusual friendship; Castiel would only whisper truth into Dean’s skin. Tonight it would be amazing, but things would change tomorrow. Cas didn’t know if he could take the look on Dean’s face when he rolled over in the morning and realized that he and his male bodied best friend had intercourse. Castiel was almost sure their friendship would never recover, either. No, he couldn’t stand the idea of not having Dean in his life at all. This was a time where Castiel had to deny Dean want he wanted.

Cas said, before he could lose his nerve, “I’m sorry, Dean. But I don’t think this is a good idea.” Dean stepped back from the other man and looked at Cas, pain and embarrassment evident on his face. Castiel was a second from taking it back and kissing that look away, but thankfully the moment had passed.

Dean laughed, pressed his hand to his face, and sat down on the bed. “I’m so fucked up.” A minute passed, maybe two where Cas just stared quietly at the wall, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Maybe their friendship was ruined, anyway. Was Castiel supposed to pretend that he didn’t know what Dean’s mouth tasted like? Would Dean act like he had not pressed himself up against the angel with no pretense of platonic intentions? It would be a lie, a stupid and hurtful lie. Castiel wanted to let out a bitter laugh; it would be familiar territory for both of them. Finally, Dean broke the silence and said plainly, “I think I drank way too much.” Cas looked down at Dean and he added, “I’m sorry about that, Cas.” Castiel wanted to protest and tell Dean that he certainly wasn’t sorry but he also knew that it would be easier, he was not sure for who, to pass this off as a drunken mistake. Things would probably be awkward between them for a while but they would get past it. Castiel grabbed hold of his logic to temper the pain he felt. He decided to listen to the reasonable voice that was telling him they both had more important things to worry about than whatever feelings they had for each other.

“Of course, Dean. You’re grieving, I understand.” Dean looked so relieved when Castiel spoke, that he could not regret saying it. There was also probably more truth to that statement than Castiel wanted to admit to. Dean was a creature of physical pleasures and he took solace in sex. _If it wasn’t me, it_ _ _probably_ would have been someone else_, Castiel told himself. “You should probably get some rest, we’ll figure out our plan of action in the morning.”

Dean smiled at Cas and whispered, “Thanks.” What exactly Dean was thanking him for, Cas didn’t know but it didn’t really matter. Dean needed his help. Whoever was using Sam as an angel condom, as Dean would say, needed to be stopped. Kevin Tran was the first victim but probably would not be the last. Castiel almost wanted to chide himself for getting distracted by his, admittedly overwhelming, feelings when Kevin’s murderer still walks free. Dean took off his shoes and laid down on the bed, not brothering to pull the covers over him. Castiel started to walk toward the door to let Dean have his privacy.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, after settling his head on the pillow.

“To let you sleep, you’ve said numerous times that me watching you sleep is ‘creepy,’” Cas stated, as if it should be obvious.

“Oh, well if you wanted to stay, you could,” Dean said. He was deliberately trying not sound hopeful but Cas heard it in his voice, anyway.

“I want to stay,” he said with complete honesty, thankful that he was at least allowed to be honest with Dean about his wish to be in his presence.

“That’s cool,” he responded causally. He snuggled into the motel pillow. “Can you turn off the light? Cas acquiesced to Dean’s request and sat down on one of the wooden chairs. He couldn’t help but watch Dean sleep. Not long after the hunter drifted off he started to mutter. It didn’t sound like a pleasant dream and Castiel swore he heard Dean whisper “Sammy.” He knelt down next to the most beautiful and flawed man he had ever known and placed a hand on Dean’s forehead. Castiel used this new grace to push the nightmares away and watched as Dean’s face relaxed in a dreamless sleep. No, he could not and would not regret what he did in that abandoned factory if it meant helping Dean.


	2. Something Just Isn't Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean realizes he kissed Cas last night and proceeds to freak out more than a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I thought because I couldn't wanted to have it nice and edited before I put it out. So I thank Natalie for helping me in that regard.

It was well past 10 o’clock in the morning before Dean Winchester stirred on lumpy bedding in the cheap motel room he had rented for the night. He opened his eyes, confused for a moment, forgetting why he was in some shitty motel room, shivering at the lack of proper heating, and not in his bed in the Men of Letters bunker. His memory was pleasantly fuzzy but that didn’t stop the mounting dread that told him he would be better off forgetting for a while. Dean looked over at the impressive bottle collection on the stained table next the window in the kitchenette and remembered. The bastard who was wearing his brother had pinned him down, killed Kevin, and taken the angel tablet.

He put his hands on his face and sighed deeply. He couldn’t believe he was so fucking stupid. When had making a deal with a monster _ever_ been a good idea? He really should have known better; in fact he did. From the beginning there had been something in his bones telling him this would only end in disaster. But he couldn’t let Sammy die and he had been all out of options at the time.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Dean had no one to blame but himself, really. He could get angry at that dick with no wings that was using his brother as a meat suit, but what would be the point? Dean had let him in in the first place, let him into their lives and into Sam. And now Kevin was dead. _At least this time my deal only caused an innocent kid to die instead of starting the apocalypse_ ,Dean thought with bitter sarcasm. He winced at the throbbing pain behind his eyes. Last night he had drunk more than he had in a long time, but it wasn’t like he really had anything better to do at the time than sit here and wait for Cas to get his slow ass to Denver.

 _Cas!_ Dean sat up quickly, and then immediately regretted that decision. He grabbed at his forehead, trying to stem the pounding he felt at his temples. “Cas,” he called out before opening his eyes again. Dean didn’t remember much from after he had begun his bender but he knew Cas had been there. After getting no response from his friend, Dean heaved himself up from the bed and cast his eyes around the room. Castiel wasn’t there. Dean felt panic fill him only a second later. Where the hell was he? Had he been  attacked? Kidnapped? Another man might call Dean out for being completely paranoid, but very few men have seen what Dean has. Very few men have lost their family not even 24 hours ago.

Before Dean walked more than half to the door, it opened and Cas appeared. He was holding a brown bag with a McDonald’s logo and a carry-out tray with two cups of coffee.

“Oh, Dean,” he said, slightly startled. “You’re awake.” He held up the bag and gave a smile. “I got you breakfast. I don’t know if you like the Egg McMuffin. I got you it because it’s what I like. I hope that’s okay. I got it with extra bacon. I was thinking about getting you an apple pie, but I didn’t know if you liked the McDonalds kind.” Castiel stopped his babbling and held out the bag. Dean took it, wondering why his friend was acting so strangely. However, Cas had always been weird. _Not usually this kind, though._

“Thanks, Cas. I owe you one.” He moved the glass bottles out of the way and sat himself down. Cas handed him his coffee with an oddly formal smile, probably the one he had used on the customers at the Gas ‘n Sip. Cas sat down across from Dean and took his own coffee and wrapped his hands around it as if to warm them.

He looked at Dean, opened his month, closed it, and then opened it again to say, “I didn’t see any angel or demon activity while I was out, however I believe it would be wise to get to the bunker as soon as possible so we can start looking for Sam.”

Dean unwrapped his sandwich and said, “Yeah, that sounds good.” He ate in silence, a silence that felt strange and uncomfortable for some reason. When Dean stood up, the blood rush caused his head to throb dully again. He winced at the pain.

“I could heal your headache for you if you want,” Cas said, already standing up and coming closer to Dean.

“Sure, thanks,” Dean answered. In all honesty his head did hurt like a son of bitch, and if Cas was offering instant relief, he’d take it.

Castiel got in Dean’s personal space but he didn’t heal Dean right away. His index and middle finger hovered over Dean’s face, as if hesitant to touch him. He was looking at Dean, staring, as if Dean was about to give him the answer to a very important riddle.

 _What the hell?_ Dean only gave his friend a confused look.

“Sorry,” Castiel murmured before tapping Dean’s head, giving instant relief. Dean wanted to just shake off Cas’s odd behavior this morning as being nothing but his friend’s usual quirkiness, but Dean knew there was more to it than that. The last thing Dean needed right now was another surprise.

“Hey Cas, is there something you need to tell me?” Dean asked, trying not to sound too accusatory.

Cas had a blank face, as if he schooled it that way, when he answered. “I’m not hiding anything, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“No! God damn it Cas, I’m just saying you’re acting little squirrely.” Dean almost laughed at his friend’s trademark confused expression. “Squirrely…like nervous and weird.”

“People do get nervous when they’re being hunted, Dean. Both Bartholomew’s and Malachi’s followers will be after me.” Cas crossed his arms across his chest and glared at the other man.

Dean snorted, not believing the angel. “And how is that different than before? Like with April or that angel that turned people into pink goo? So why are you more worried now?” Dean paused and a horrible thought came to him and he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What did you do you get your mojo back, anyway?”

Cas’s jaw twitched. He took a deep breath and looked down as if to collect himself before answering Dean. “I took another angel’s grace. His name was Theo, he was working for Malachi. There was anopportunity, so I took it.” Cas paused and took a step closer to Dean. “I heard about Ezekiel, that he was dead. I knew that whoever was with you could be dangerous. I had to tell you.” Castiel uttered the last sentence with a softness Dean had never heard from the angel before. Dean’s gaze flicked to Castiel’s lips. _They felt softer than I thought they would._

And then, as if a light had suddenly came on in his mind, he remembered that he had kissed Castiel last night. It hadn’t exactly been wasn’t exactly chaste either. It was passionate and urgent and made Dean’s lips tingle at the memory of it. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean whispered to himself. He didn’t know that it was actually possible to ruin his life even further after watching Kevin’s eyes get burned out, but he, Dean Winchester had found a way.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, looking at the other man with more than a little pain in his eyes.

Cas must have thought Dean’s curse was directed at him. But no, Dean’s scorn was only directed at himself. The hell was he thinking? Clearly, he hadn’t been thinking at all. Dean couldn’t stop himself from remembering, as if a film strip was playing in his head. Castiel’s hair had been soft underneath his hands. Dean had barely tugged at it to tilt Cas’s head to get better access to his lips. Dean also remembered that when Cas had stopped he kissed the angel’s neck in an invitation for them to keep going. Keep going until they were sweaty and satisfied and well fucked.

Feeling hot from more than embarrassment, Dean knew he had to get out of that room before he did something really stupid like talk to Cas about what happened last night. Or, even worse, try and convince the former angel to kiss him this time. _I need to get the fuck out of here._ “Cas, it’s fine, really. We all do what we gotta.” Dean said dismissively, and added, “Hey listen, I just remembered I forgot something. It’s in my car. I’ll be right back.” Dean rushed out of the room, not even taking a moment to look at Castiel’s bewildered expression. However, once he shut the motel room door, the need to flee left him.

What was wrong with him? Kissing Cas was such a horrible idea on so many levels. For one thing, Dean had long thought of himself as a man who liked women and like to have sex with women. Exclusively. Sure, he’d had the odd crush on a celebrity or fictional character like Dr. Sexy over the years, but everyone had those. Dean had kept his more unorthodox ideas about men safely stashed in a guarded corner of his mind that never saw the light of day expect for when he touched himself. And even then, the beautiful men were all mixed up with the beautiful women in a haze of desire where anything goes.

Still, Dean had never kissed a man before and even though Castiel might not technically be a man, he definitely had the equipment. Dean allowed himself a wry smile; he had felt said equipment pressed against his thigh last night. Dean felt a hot wave of something that was not any sort of discomfort when he thought of what Cas might look like naked. Dean wondered what Cas liked, if maybe he liked being held down by his partner and ridden like Dean did. He conjured an image of Cas flushed and panting on top of him, hands clamped on Dean’s shoulder, bouncing on his thighs and calling out his name. Dean tilted his head back and slammed it against the wall. What was wrong with him?

But there was so much more to this bad decision than questions of sexuality. Castiel was his friend, his best friend, and even though Dean didn’t have much experience on the subject, he’s pretty sure having sex with said friend tends to ruin the friendship. Of course this had to happen when things were finally okay between them again. Dean realized that Cas’s odd behavior in the motel room had been caused by their ill-advised kiss. Cas wasn’t hiding anything and now Dean wasn’t hiding anything from Cas. He knew why Dean had pushed him away and Dean felt more relief than he thought he would after he told Cas the truth. Now they were on the same page in terms of finding Sam, or the bastard holed up in him, and stopping him. They so did not have time for their own personal brand of painful and confusing. _How are we going to get past this?_ Dean sighed, wondering if he should say something, anything, to make the tension any less uncomfortable than he knew it would be. But Dean had never been good at the talking thing, that was always Sam’s department. What could he even say? _Hey man, sorry for kissing you last night?_ Yeah, no. Maybe he even had said something to that effect last night, so there was no need to repeat it.

Why had he kissed Cas, really? Dean remembered Cas had said something to him that made him feel almost safe or reassured maybe. Cas had made him think, even just for a second, that maybe everything was going to be okay. Dean blinked, trying to recall the last time ever he had felt that way and came up with very little to compare it to. Maybe he just wanted to repay his friend back for that feeling and his drunken mind had thought a kiss would be the best way to do that. Or maybe his intentions were far less noble than that. Last night Dean was miserable and he had desperately wanted a life line, for someone to hold him and promise to always be there for him. Dean had also wanted to black out. He wanted to forget, even if it was just for a little while. He was chasing the oblivion that often came to him during and after great sex. And Dean was convinced that the sex between him and Castiel would be nothing less than pretty fucking awesome. As far as Dean saw it, being with Cas would have been antidote to a need for human contact, and the desire to not think about his screwed up life for a while.

“I’m so fucked up,” he whispered. Not to mention a completely selfish bastard. What kind of friend was he that he wanted to drag Cas down with him and make Cas responsible for being the cure to his pain, when Dean knew only he should do that. Only he could do that, since he was the one who messed up. Dean took a deep breath, they had work to do. They had to get Sam back and get the angel out of him. Dean also had to bury Kevin. He should also ask Cas what should be done about Crowley. Whatever Dean and Castiel had between them would need to be pushed to the side for now. To be dealt with later, if ever. In the meantime Dean would go on pretending he still didn’t remember what had happened between the two of them. It probably wasn’t the best plan, but it got the job done for now.

Dean opened the door to see Cas, sitting on the bed, looking at his hands. He looked at Dean and asked “Did you get what you needed from the car?”

“Yeah, you ready to go?” Dean hadn’t even packed a bag last night, so he was ready.

Cas laughed softly at that, and whispered, “Of course,” as if saying it to himself. He stood up and walked to door. “Yes, I am ready to leave. Wherever you go, Dean, I will follow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You read it! So drop the coins in my guitar case by commenting.


End file.
